


the devil in star city

by minachandler



Series: (girl)friends don't do that to one another [27]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Ableism, Angst, Daredevil AU, F/F, Mattelektra AU, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Religion, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2019-10-10 09:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17422889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minachandler/pseuds/minachandler
Summary: "My name is Laurel Lance. When I was eight years old I was in a car accident that left me without sight. But in the process, my other senses were heightened.By day, I am a defence attorney, ready to fight for justice in the courtroom on behalf of those who the law has failed. By night, I am someone else. I am something else.I am Daredevil."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a fic that's been a few weeks in the making. I have recently been sucked into the world of Marvel's Netflix verse (I'm sure there's a proper name for it lol) and the first show I watched was Daredevil. I've since become slightly obsessed with the idea of Laurel as Matt, just because they have a lot of parallels in their journeys and that's really interesting to watch. 
> 
> Thanks to Anita for the initial idea, and Sophia for reading this over for me and giving me much-needed feedback.

The kitchen of an opulent restaurant was buzzing when Laurel and Joanna stepped in. Laurel didn’t exactly like busy places, but she couldn’t deny that the bustle of the place helped camouflage two law students who had no business at a fancy Performing Arts faculty party on New Year’s Eve.

 

“Laurel, are you _sure_ you wanna be here?” Joanna asked, spearing a crab cake with her fork and taking a bite.

 

“Good, huh?” Laurel said with a grin, and Joanna shook her head.

 

“How did you know I -”

 

“I have this weird sixth sense.” And of course Laurel was still smiling - because she didn’t have to be able to see to know that Joanna was rolling her eyes in fond exasperation. “Makes up for the one I lack.”

 

“Sure, babe. But I just mean - I know this kind of thing isn’t your scene.”

 

Sixth sense or not, Laurel had a feeling she knew what would be coming next, so before Joanna could say anything further, Laurel said, “I’m parched. Gonna get something to drink.”

 

“Want me to come with?”

 

“No, I know you wanted to catch your server buddy after her shift. Just, uh, do us all a favour, okay, Jo, and kiss her already?” Laurel reached out, patted Joanna’s cheek and got out her cane. “Which way is the bar?”

 

For a few moments Joanna spluttered, then, regaining her composure, she said, “Straight ahead and to your left.” Laurel was already turning around, and it was only when she was a few feet away that she heard Joanna call to her, “And for the last time - Kendra’s just a friend!”

 

Laurel didn’t break in her stride, though, or her laugh, because she could hear Kendra Saunders’ footsteps from here and knew she was most definitely in earshot. “Does she know that, Jo?”

 

The thing was, Joanna wasn’t wrong. These parties weren’t exactly Laurel’s thing - not by a long shot. But even Laurel had to admit that college was lonely.

 

It wasn’t that law school wasn’t right for Laurel. She knew she belonged in that courtroom, had known it from the moment she did her first mock trial. It was more that sometimes the weight of all the books and all the cases and all the statutes were so damn heavy that when she finally had a day without them, she wondered what was left of herself. Especially when she remembered how much it had taken for her to get here in the first place.

 

But tonight she was determined to try and do something different. It was New Year’s Eve, after all. So she headed out of the kitchen and towards the bar, conscious of the eyes on her. Laurel wasn’t sure if it was her attire, or the dark glasses, or maybe just some other neon sign that told everyone in the room that she was blind, alone and (technically) gatecrashing. In particular, though, she could sense several not-so discreet security guards hovering around her. Laurel tried to get past - she really did need a drink - but two guards stepped in her way.

 

“I think you’re done here,” one of them said quietly.

 

“But I was just looking for -”

 

“Walk away, ma’am.”

 

“I -”

 

“It’s okay, Maseo,” a voice on the left said. It was in that silky, casual kind of tone that told Laurel immediately that unlike Laurel, this woman _did_ belong here. “She’s with me.”

 

Wordlessly, the men instantly ceased their obstruction of Laurel’s path, allowing her to pass through.

 

“Thanks for the assist,” Laurel said, drawing up a stool and sitting beside this woman. “But I had that under control.”

 

“Is that so?” The woman leaned forward, so Laurel was breathing in the warm scent of her perfume - narcissus, if she wasn’t mistaken, and perhaps sandalwood, a fragrance that was probably French and undeniably expensive. “Because I think you and I both know that that’s not true.”

 

Undeterred, Laurel leaned forward too - just an inch, but enough to stand her ground. Besides, there was something (maybe the foreign accent, or the faint scent of lipstick that Laurel could smell on the woman’s lips) about this mysterious woman that intrigued Laurel. “And what makes you say that, exactly?”

 

A pause. Then: “The fishnets were a dead giveaway, really.”

 

Laurel chuckled. “Touché.”

 

“Not that they don’t look pretty on you -”

 

“Well, thank you for the compliment,” Laurel interrupted. “I think.”

 

“- but if you’re going to crash a fancy faculty party, at least _try_ to look the part. You know. Like your gorgeous friend over there who's pretending not to be in love with that waitress.”

 

“She is really bad at that, isn’t she?” Laurel said, not quite sure how to reply to the rest, before waving over the bartender. “Hi, can I have an orange juice, please? And, uh, another fruity cocktail for my friend here.” She paused, then added, “Pardon me - another fruity _mock_ tail.”

 

“You don’t have to -”

 

“Maybe I want to. Besides, it’s not every day I find someone at a party who doesn’t wanna get drunk. So what was your poison?”

 

For the first time since Laurel sat down at that bar, the woman hesitated. “I - I don’t think I understand.”

 

“Mine was scotch.” Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her keys, feeling for her AA chip. “I’m six months sober. Hence the lack of booze.”

 

Another pause. “Congratulations.”

 

“Thanks. So what’s your excuse?”

 

“Most people need an excuse to drink, not the opposite.”

 

“I have a feeling you’re not most people, though.”

 

“How many women do you use that line on, Miss...”

 

“Lance,” Laurel supplied. “And that is usually the only line I need to use.” She heard the woman scoff at that, and then Laurel laughed. “I’m kidding. I’m… not exactly a catch, nowadays. Don’t think I ever have been, actually.”

 

She expected the woman to sigh, maybe in exasperation, but instead the stranger before her leaned forward so Laurel could feel the flutter of warm breath against her neck.

 

“To answer your question - I suppose I have never felt the need to drink… poison to feel intoxicated.”

 

And indeed, when Laurel breathed in the heady smell of the woman’s perfume, for a second she was lost in the warm cloud of fragrance that settled on Laurel the closer she got.

 

“I see what you mean,” Laurel replied, and she wasn’t sure if she was thankful or annoyed that the spell was broken by another voice.

 

“Your orange juice, ma’am,” the bartender said, and Laurel felt the cold, damp press of glass against her fingertips as her hand found her drink. “And another one of your usual, Miss Raatko.”

 

“Thank you,” the two women said in unison. Laurel took a sip of hers, letting out a deep breath.

 

“My name’s Nyssa, by the way. Nyssa Raatko.”

 

Laurel held out her hand and smiled. “Laurel. Laurel Lance.” Nyssa took her hand to shake it, but just as she did so they were interrupted by the bang of fireworks outside, and Laurel almost jumped.

 

“Jesus,” she muttered as she righted herself, grateful for her hold on Nyssa’s hand for a moment before tugging it away. Her grip returned to her drink. “It can’t be midnight already, can it?”

 

“No,” Nyssa said, and she reached out again, her fingertips ghosting Laurel’s knuckles but not quite _touching_ her. Like she was waiting for Laurel to tell her it was okay. “It's probably some of the residents nearby who are just impatient.”

 

“Well, good for them.” And Laurel didn't want to say that bitterly, she really didn't, but it came out that way nonetheless and she could tell Nyssa had noticed.

 

“I'm sorry,” Nyssa said softly.

 

“For what?”

 

“I…” She paused, taking a long sip of her drink. “I get the sense that you've had a rough year.”

 

“You don’t know the half of it, sweetheart.”

 

“So perhaps me talking about you not belonging wasn't one of my better choices.”

 

Laurel chuckled, fiddling with her straw. “That’s okay. I don’t think I have any of those. Good choices, I mean.” She heard Nyssa scoff. “You don’t need to look at me like that.”

 

“You can’t possibly know -”

 

“I’m blind, not stupid. Even if people think those things are one and the same. I can tell you feel sorry for me -”

 

“No I don’t,” Nyssa interrupted. “I get the feeling that you have enough pity to go around - and not for the reasons people might think.”

 

“You’re not wrong.” Almost unconsciously Laurel touched the crucifix resting against the hollow of her neck, then shrugged. “That part is Catholicism.”

 

“No, you misunderstand… this - isn’t pity. Or even sympathy.” Laurel must have still looked scathing, because then Nyssa added, “Trust me, I would have to have a heart for that.”

 

Nyssa didn't know, couldn't, how very wrong about that she was, when Laurel could hear the steady thump of Nyssa's heartbeat from where she sat beside her. But of course - Laurel couldn't tell her that.

 

Just then there was another bang from outside, and Laurel didn't jump this time, thankfully, but there was no mistaking the disconcerted feeling that went through her. And once more Nyssa's fingers were suddenly near her own, brushing against the inside Laurel's wrist.

 

Perhaps this was accidental, though, because this time Nyssa was the one who made to pull her hand away. Before she could, though, and before Laurel could let herself think about it a second longer, Laurel caught Nyssa's with her own.

 

“Wanna dance?” she asked. She tried to keep her tone even, nonchalant, but hearing Nyssa's heart start to race didn't help matters.

 

“I sense you're mocking me. How can you…?”

 

Before she could talk herself out of it, Laurel reached out, hand fluttering around Nyssa's arm, past the bangles that sounded lightly at the skim of Laurel's fingertips. It was clumsy, but she didn't mind - she wanted to savour this moment, in case it was just a moment, in case it didn't last.

 

“I'm serious,” Laurel said, somehow managing to sound playful. “Here -” she offered her hand “- you can lead. I promise I won't embarrass you by falling.”

 

This is why she didn't do this - it was so fucking daunting to wear her heart on her sleeve like this, knowing that someone could so easily trample on it, break it in two, even. But God knew why - there was just something about Nyssa. Something that made Laurel want to kiss her hard and breathless, so she could have a taste of that lipstick.

 

Laurel was surprised, therefore, when she felt Nyssa's hand slide into her own, and the faint whisper of breath against the shell of her ear as she leaned closer. And Laurel didn't mean to shiver, but she did, huffing out a long drawn out sigh.

 

“Laurel, if you fall,” Nyssa said quietly, barely audible, as if somehow she knew that Laurel could hear her loud and clear, “I promise I’ll catch you.”

 

“My hero,” Laurel couldn't help but say sarcastically.

 

Nyssa tutted at that, but it was more at herself, clearly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean - I deserved that.”

 

“Three guesses for what _I_ deserve,” Laurel replied, and despite her blunder Nyssa laughed. Then Laurel held out her other hand, found Nyssa's, and got to her feet.

 

“I suppose I do owe you a dance.”

 

Laurel started off a little clumsy - she was out of practice, not having danced in years, but at least she managed not to tread on Nyssa’s feet.

 

It was therefore genuine surprise on her face when Nyssa murmured, “You know, you're not awful at this. I mean, for a -”

 

“I really hope you’re not gonna say what I think you are,” Laurel interrupted, and Nyssa chuckled.

 

“I was actually going to say for a white woman - but I can understand you may take offence to that too.”

 

This time Laurel couldn't hold back a laugh. “Not in the slightest.”

 

“I am sorry, though. About before. Truly.” Laurel's change in demeanour must have shown on her face, because Nyssa quickly added, “I know you've probably heard that a thousand times before.”

 

“So why are you saying it too?”

 

“In all honesty - I wasn't sure what else to say.”

 

“I didn't ask you to say anything,” Laurel whispered, taking a moment to lean her forehead against Nyssa's. “Just dance.”

 

And dance they did, just as a song bursting with the sound of tango started up. Laurel moved with Nyssa, faster, Laurel guessing Nyssa's next moves a split second before Nyssa made them. It was thrilling in the rare kind of way that made Laurel's heart race, perhaps because it was almost like when she had trained as a child - except this time she was in the arms of a woman she instinctively trusted, for some reason even Laurel herself couldn’t figure out.

 

Letting Nyssa spin her around, they were in sync now, feet moving in tandem. Around her, Laurel could hear the whip of heads turning, feel the gaze of at least a dozen people boring into her and her dance partner.

 

“You must be really beautiful or something,” Laurel said under her breath as Nyssa's hand moved to the small of Laurel's back and Laurel threw her head backwards in time for a dip.

 

“What makes you say that?” Nyssa asked breathlessly, her nose less than an inch away from Laurel's.

 

“I can tell you're turning a lot of heads. Everyone's staring at you.”

 

“No, everyone is staring at _us_. It seems you dance rather elegantly, Miss Lance.”

 

The crescendo of the song sounded, and Laurel wasn't sure if it was the thrumming pulse of Nyssa's she could hear, so intense and wanting, as Laurel was the one to spin Nyssa around this time, or just because she hadn't felt this alive in such a long time, but before Laurel could stop to think about it she leaned in and kissed Nyssa full on the mouth.

 

At first Nyssa let out a little _oh_ of surprise, the tiniest sigh that escaped her lips, and then Nyssa pulled her closer and kissed her back with equal fervour.

 

What Laurel had envisaged for this party, she wasn't entirely sure. Part of her had been wishful and had naively hoped for a kiss at midnight, under the fireworks, perhaps, erupting across the stars that littered the night sky. But instead, around her the sounds starting up were not of Catherine Wheels and sparklers - no, as Laurel pulled back a little, leaning her forehead against Nyssa's, the crowd that had circled around them burst into rapturous applause.

 

“So,” Laurel said softly, holding out her hand, and Nyssa automatically took it, helping Laurel stand up properly, “you wanna grab dinner tomorrow?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a bit hot and heavy here so you're probably best off not reading this one at work :P Thanks to Sophia for reading through this for me!

“Hang on, so let me get this straight -”

 

Instantly Laurel burst out laughing. “Honey, I thought we already established that I'm about as straight as a rainbow slinky.” She paused for a second, feeling a solitary drop of rain fall on her hair. The cold that had settled this winter had been dry but not as unforgiving, and it was only now that Laurel was really starting to shiver as the winds began to whip around them to accompany the inevitable downpour. Still, there was something about the butterflies she felt in her stomach - the beautiful kind - that kept her warm, and for that Laurel was grateful.

 

“Okay, poor choice of words, given the same applies for me,” Nyssa said.

 

“ _Quelle surprise_ ,” Laurel replied teasingly. “I never would have guessed.”

 

They were walking arm in arm but now Nyssa was slowing a little, and Laurel slowed down too. “Do you mind the rain? We could always get a cab.”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Laurel said. “I'm okay if you are. Just tell me if you see a puddle.”

 

They resumed their stride together. “So, back to what I was saying - how can you possibly have never had a black and white milkshake before now?”

 

“Most people just give me water when I say I don't want booze.” Laurel paused, though, and then added, “Actually, that’s not true. There are days when I want a drink no matter how much I know it will fuck me up.”

 

“I bet you’re glad the only bar I’m familiar with is of the milkshake variety, then.”

 

“You haven’t asked me why.”

 

And Laurel could have elaborated, here, asked what she was asking more clearly, but there was this moment of understanding that passed between them, as Nyssa gently squeezed Laurel’s arm, that meant she didn’t have to.

 

“I suppose it’s not really my business,” Nyssa answered eventually. “And like a lot of things… if you wanted to tell me, you’d do so in your own time.”

 

Again, Nyssa's unsaid words hung in the damp air between them, Laurel not needing to hear them when she could feel them, in the sudden absence of spring in Nyssa's step.

 

“I appreciate that.”

 

She realised now that they were slowing again, and that they were nearing what must have been Nyssa's apartment.

 

“This is me,” Nyssa said, and for the first time Laurel could detect something that felt almost like nervousness in her tone. They'd been out every night since New Year's Eve, and yet surprisingly for Laurel, while there was no denying things had gotten intense, so far it had all been above clothing. Not that she’d minded, really - there was something glorious about the slow burn of fire between them, the way that their time apart whittled it down to mere embers and then when they were together again it burned brighter each time. But something - maybe primal instinct, or perhaps the fact that she was in a setting as cliched as to be standing in the pouring rain with a beautiful girl - told her that things were different tonight.

 

“Yeah.” Laurel could tell her clothes were getting more and more drenched by the second, but she didn't mind, not really, not when she was letting her hand trail down Nyssa's sleeve. Instinctively Nyssa shivered.

 

“Are you waiting for something?” she asked after a few seconds.

 

Laurel didn't answer. “I had a great time tonight. Just like I did the last few nights. And it’s been really fun getting to know you.”

 

At first, perhaps rather uncharacteristic of her, Nyssa made a few non-committal noises, as if she was confused. “So... you're waiting for me to say goodnight?”

 

Leaning up, tilting her head back, Laurel kissed Nyssa in answer, tasting rain and something sweet.

 

“Gods, you're soaked,” Nyssa breathed, her hand going to the small of Laurel's back. “We should go inside. Get out of these wet clothes.”

 

“I thought you'd never ask.” And Laurel knew at Nyssa's tiny laugh at that that she really was nervous, for reasons Laurel didn't properly understand, so Laurel then added, “I can go. If you want. And I'm sorry if I went too far just there.”

 

Nyssa caught her wrist, though. “No, you didn't.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“I promise,” Nyssa said firmly. “I want you to stay. With me.”

 

“So I'll stay.” Laurel reached up, brushing away a rivulet of rain from Nyssa's nose.

 

“Laurel, the thing is, I haven't -” Nyssa broke off, and it was then that Laurel got it, just as Nyssa finished, “I haven't done this before. With… anyone.”

 

“It's okay,” Laurel said before kissing her. “I can lead this time. If you want.”

 

“Yes,” Nyssa breathed. “I do.”

 

***

 

“Give us this day our daily bread,” Laurel said under her breath, “and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from -”

 

“Laurel?” Immediately Laurel's heart sank - she had thought she was being so quiet that the angel on her shoulder could barely hear her, let alone the woman sleeping in the bed behind her, but clearly she was wrong. A rustle of bedsheets - then the light tap of Nyssa's palm on the pillow as she searched for Laurel on the bed. “Where -?”

 

“It’s okay. I’m right here,” Laurel said, turning head slightly. “You didn't think I ghosted you, did you?”

 

“Not at all,” Nyssa replied - and she spoke far too quickly for Laurel to believe her.

 

It was strange - they'd known each other all of five days, and it felt like she had talked more with Nyssa in those days than she had with anyone in five years.

 

Laurel was standing at the window, and even though it was closed she could hear the occasional whoosh of cars in the street below. Still - she appreciated the silence, for the short moments it lasted, crisp and refreshing compared to the usual noise and chaos surrounding her.

 

“How long have you been up?” Nyssa asked through a yawn.

 

“Not that long. What time is it?”

 

“Four a.m.”

 

“Sorry,” Laurel said softly, pulling the robe she had found on one of the door hooks closer around her, then taking a few tentative steps towards the bed. “For waking you, I mean. I was just…”

 

“... praying?” Laurel nodded apologetically but before she could say anything Nyssa was taking one of Laurel's hands into her own. “Did I interrupt you?” Nyssa asked.

 

Laurel smiled. “No, you didn't. I’m all done now.” She couldn't help but kiss Nyssa now, just briefly, enough for Laurel to be able to taste the smile on Nyssa's lips as she settled back into bed. “And even if I wasn't - I figure the man upstairs would understand.”

 

It was obvious Nyssa was trying not to scoff. “Really?”

 

“Really,” Laurel said with more conviction than she actually felt.

 

“About what I told you before…” Nyssa began, but she hesitated for a second. Reaching out, Laurel touched Nyssa's bare shoulder, hand meeting cool skin. For the briefest of seconds Nyssa seemed to tense at her touch, but then she relaxed. Laurel used her thumb to trace a gentle circle on Nyssa's bicep, and it was gratifying hearing Nyssa's soft moan of appreciation at that.

 

“ _I_ told you before,” Laurel said firmly. “It doesn’t make a difference to me.”

 

“I've never told anyone else before,” Nyssa admitted. “Everyone just assumes - well, I suppose I do give off a femme fatale vibe on occasion.”

 

And now Laurel laughed. “Maybe just a little bit. On occasion.”

 

Nyssa chuckled too. “Sort of ironic, don't you think?”

 

“What is?”

 

“You're Catholic, devout -”

 

“That's debatable,” Laurel interrupted.

 

“You’re devout enough to get up in the middle of the night for prayer,” Nyssa countered. “You believe in the existence of a being that's never been seen or heard by anyone.”

 

“Also debatable.”

 

“You're a lawyer - I wouldn't expect you to say anything less.”

 

“Law student,” Laurel corrected. “I haven't even graduated yet, much less passed the LSAT or Bar…”

 

“I suppose the students at Cambridge are just pompous like that, then. Or they just liked to glorify themselves prematurely.”

 

“You were at Cambridge?”

 

“Yes, until I asked to be transferred. And I'm glad to be here, now.”

 

“You mean at Columbia University?” Laurel asked slowly.

 

Nyssa leaned her forehead against Laurel's. “No. I meant… with you.” And Laurel wished she knew what she could say to that, to this woman uttering sweet nothings to her who perhaps wasn't realising how hard Laurel had fallen for her. Lost for words, Laurel placed a gentle kiss on Nyssa’s lips, then her cheek, then a spot down the side of her neck, gratified when Nyssa sighed contentedly. “Anyway,” Nyssa continued, raking her fingers through Laurel's hair, “me, I wouldn't pray even if I was in a burning building.”

 

“Trust me, my faith is up and down most of the time.”

 

“True, but my point still stands.”

 

“Which is what?”

 

“Of the two of us - you're the one people would expect to be a virgin, not me.”

 

Laurel just shrugged, though. “Virginity is just a social construct anyway.” Nyssa huffed a sigh and Laurel added, “Okay. I get what you mean. But I - I don't care if you've slept with a hundred people or no people. I think if I did… that would make me a pretty shitty person. Not to mention - if you think me being Catholic meant I didn't want to jump your bones the moment I met you, you are sorely mistaken, sweetheart.”

 

“But I thought in Catholicism -”

 

“Pretty much every Catholic I know is chockfull of repressed sexual energy. It’s just the natural order.”

 

“Wow. I suppose you learn new things every day.”

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Why don't you… believe?”

 

At first Nyssa didn’t answer, just shifted slightly on the bed so she was more comfortable. “Do you think less of me because of it?”

 

Laurel didn’t hesitate in her reply. “Nyssa, there is not a force in the universe that could make me think less of you. I just - know a lot of people who feel the way they feel about religion because of something, something that's happened to them.”

 

For a moment Nyssa considered this. “I don't think anything happened, really. I mean - I've been very fortunate, was taken in by a prosperous family at a young age and have only ever really known luxury. But I don't think some higher power caused that or put it in motion.”

 

“That's fair,” Laurel said.

 

“And I think I've seen enough of the world to know that good things happen to bad people all the time, and vice versa.”

 

“So what?”

 

“So - I can't possibly believe that that kind of injustice is God's will.”

 

“Yeah, I struggle with that myself a lot of the time,” Laurel admitted. “Not to mention - I'm not gonna pretend organised religion has ever really been on my side. Or on yours. It's a hell of a lot to try and reconcile.”

 

Then Laurel had to hide her sharp intake of breath, as she felt the brush of Nyssa's knuckles against the hollow of her throat, until her fingers found the crucifix hanging around her neck.

 

“How _do_ you reconcile it all?”

 

Instinctively, Laurel wrapped her hand around Nyssa's wrist, smiled ruefully. “I'll let you know if I ever figure out an answer to that. In the meantime…”

 

“...in the meantime you're still going to pray?”

 

“Do you think that's silly?” Laurel said, and her words came out a mere whisper.

 

“No,” Nyssa answered without skipping a beat. She released the cross from between her fingers, moved her hand so her palm was resting on Laurel's chest, right above her heartbeat. “No,” Nyssa repeatedly solemnly. “I think that's beautiful. Actually - I envy that level of faith. It’s something I admire about you. I wish I had that.”

 

“I mean - that's nice of you to say. But it's more that… I need something to hold on to.”

 

“And that something is your belief?”

 

Laurel shook her head. “I can't hold on to something that I don't know exists half the time, that fluctuates so much that there are days when I don't think it's there at all. No. I'm holding on to what's... familiar, I guess. And saying the words I know so well they may as well be carved into my heart - that's familiar. So is going to confession and mass, even if I don’t go often enough. It's all I know. That's always been my anchor. Until…”

 

There was silence and it was clear Nyssa was expectant, waiting for Laurel to continue. And Laurel wanted to, but something inside her made her falter - maybe the knowledge that she could not remember ever baring her soul to someone like this before, let alone someone she had spent only days with. Or that she felt so naked in that moment that it made her shiver involuntarily, gooseflesh erupting on her spine despite Laurel being clothed and Nyssa being the one with bare shoulders and the bedsheet wrapped around her middle

 

She was surprised when Nyssa seemed to accept her silence, lips meeting Laurel's in the kind of gentle kiss that was so uncharacteristic of someone so headstrong.

 

“You're going to tell me, right?” Nyssa said against her mouth. Then she ducked her head, kissed a spot on Laurel's neck, tongue darting out to lick the column of her throat.

 

“Tell me what?” Laurel asked breathlessly.

 

“If I do something wrong?”

 

And then Laurel understood, remembering before, when she'd been on her knees, the taste of Nyssa hot and honeyed on her tongue, when Laurel had assured Nyssa to take her time. That one of the reasons pleasure was such a beautiful thing was because it was something you could give, or take, or if she was lucky, both. That they should go slowly. She'd insisted on it, actually. “Hey, you don't have to -”

 

But before Laurel could finish her sentence Nyssa silenced her with a kiss, so hard that it left Laurel gasping. “I know. But I want to. The question is - do you want me to?”

 

Even as she was panting for air Laurel managed a laugh. “You really have to ask me that?”

 

“Of course. And you didn't answer my other question.”

 

Laurel took Nyssa's hand, placed it on her thigh. Despite her words, though, Laurel knew Nyssa's uncertainty lingered, in the measured carefulness of her breathing.

 

“My answer is yes, obviously.” And as she leaned in to kiss her Nyssa's hand automatically relaxed, enough for Laurel to cover Nyssa's hand with her own. “And to answer your question - yes. I will tell you. In the impossible event that you do something wrong.”

 

Encouraged by this, Nyssa dragged her palm up the inside of Laurel's thigh, and Laurel sighed contentedly when the tip of Nyssa's finger edged tentatively upwards, until it met the damp cotton of her panties. Laurel had always been sensitive, but now, with Nyssa barely even touching her, and with a barrier still separating them - Laurel tensed, so when Nyssa slid two fingers inside her panties Laurel couldn't help but cry out.

 

“Was that -”

 

“Nyssa,” Laurel interrupted, “I said I would tell you. Please don't stop. Unless you want to?”

 

She didn't expect Nyssa to answer her with a kiss, nor for her to push at Laurel's shoulders. Nyssa was waiting, holding her breath, until Laurel was lying right back, the tie of her robe coming loose. Her panties came off next, Laurel tugging them off her waist, wriggling her hips so they came down her legs, and Nyssa untangling them when they fell to her ankles. At the same time she could feel the familiar clenching feeling of intense heat deep between her legs, so when Nyssa dropped a kiss - light as a feather - on a spot just above Laurel's belly button, it was hard for Laurel to contain her moan.

 

“Nyssa,” Laurel said breathlessly when minutes later she felt Nyssa's mouth somewhere on the inside of her thigh, “you're killing me here.”

 

Nyssa laughed. “You have a point. Perhaps it is rude to keep a girl waiting.”

 

“Sweetie, there's no ‘perhaps’ about that.”

 

Then, slowly, oh so slowly, Laurel could feel the nudge of Nyssa's nose against her opening, then her tongue, as she got a taste of Laurel for the first time. Laurel tried to control her breathing, slow it somewhat, but really she was surrendering to Nyssa's every touch, as without warning Nyssa's fingers were where her tongue had been making Laurel moan needingly. And once Nyssa found her bearings with her hand, her forefinger inching inside her, pad of her finger finding Laurel's now swollen clit, Nyssa let out a little _oh_ of surprise. Laurel wanted to say something, maybe tell her again that Nyssa shouldn't feel obliged to do anything, but the only sound that spilled from her lips was a soft groan. Reaching out, Laurel found Nyssa's free hand instead, and their fingers twined together automatically as Laurel rocked her hips against her lover's mouth.

 

By the time Laurel came - grip tightening on Nyssa's hand until she was sure not even God could have pried apart their fingers if He tried - she could feel the sweat dripping down her forehead and feel the slow curve of Nyssa's smile mouthed into the still-damp skin of her thigh.

 

“Holy mother of -”

 

“Now, I would have thought that was blasphemous,” Nyssa teased. “At least in your book.” Laurel chuckled, turning on her side on the bed. Now, as the cloudy haze of pleasure from her orgasm was clearing, Laurel inhaled slowly, taking in the musky scent coming from between Nyssa's legs as she shifted closer to Laurel on the bed. “That was good, wasn’t it?”

 

Laurel couldn’t help but laugh, running her fingers through Nyssa’s hair. “Wow. Talk about selling yourself short.” Nyssa just buried her face into Laurel’s neck, though, not answering. “I have to say, this side of you is… weirdly endearing.”

 

“What do you mean, ‘this side of me’?”

 

“I mean… seeing you being unsure about something. Before tonight, I didn’t think it was possible for Nyssa Raatko to be vulnerable.”

 

Silence fell. “I suppose I am full of surprises,” Nyssa said eventually. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“What do you see? Like, really see? Because I remember what you said the night we met. About how - people think ‘blind’ is somehow synonymous with ‘ignorant’ or even ‘stupid’. And perhaps I was guilty of thinking the same, once, but I know better now.”

 

Laurel thought back to when she first interviewed for Columbia, an ordeal made all the more excruciating because of how much the professors seemed to be treading on eggshells around her, or when early in her freshman year there were several students muttering about how the only reason the blind girl was there was because the dean felt sorry for her. (They’d said it quietly, when they thought that Laurel was out of earshot, but of course Laurel had the great fortune of hearing their vitriol anyway.)

 

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” Laurel said slowly. “You asked what I see. I see… the minute details. But I also see a world that’s on fire. I see all the things that are wrong and I don’t have the means to stop any of it.”

 

“That sounds like hell,” Nyssa said softly.

 

“I’ve never told anyone that before,” Laurel said, more to herself than to Nyssa.

 

“Why did you tell me?”

 

This time Laurel did manage a smile, her arm snaking around Nyssa’s bare waist. “I don’t know. But I do know that I’ve never met anyone who gets me. Not like you.”

 

They settled again into quiet, and Laurel wasn’t sure how long they spent like that, limbs tangled together, Laurel listening to the steady sounds of Nyssa’s breathing as Nyssa stroked her hair. And that night, the night when Laurel slept better than she had in years, it didn’t matter that the world in her dreams was still on fire - because Nyssa was by her side the whole time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long day interning at Landman and Zach, Laurel decides to go to a late night AA meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it's been a while since I've updated this and I know why - I've been sidetracked with my original project and also RL has been kicking my ass. Anyway, this chapter has a fair amount of discuss about addiction and alcoholism, so if those are triggering subjects for you, please read with caution.

 

The Wildcat boxing ring had been disused for years, so Laurel was surprised to hear the quiet murmur of voices as she approached. Chairs were being scraped into place, telling her a meeting was about to happen.

 

It had been a long day, one of those that seemed never-ending, involving tedious document production and listening to the tinny tones of shitty music playing as she waited on hold yet again. She’d had a lot of those - long days, that is - and it always caught people by surprise when she let them know she was still interning even after she’d passed her Bar exam.

 

But she knew they were getting close, that she and Joanna might finally be able to get their dream jobs at Landman and Zach if they stuck around just a little while longer. It was just that now they were closer to the finish line, Laurel was wondering if she really wanted to cross it.

 

When she'd finally called it a day (night, even) at around eleven, she had found herself toying with the bottom drawer of her tiny desk. She'd known what was inside, hidden beneath manila envelopes and endless heaps of documents - a bottle of scotch, sent to her by courier from a particularly rich and particularly grateful client. Laurel had insisted she couldn't accept a gift, but that hadn't stopped her keeping it at the bottom of her drawer anyway. She hadn't had a drop - that was kind of the point, a way for her to prove her strength of willpower, if only for herself.

 

And it wasn't that she thought she was going to slip. Not really. More that she needed to be around other people - those who weren't Joanna or her priest.

 

There was movement behind her and Laurel fought the urge to whip around quickly into a defensive position. It seemed Lia's training from years ago was built into Laurel, down to her very reflexes - no matter how hard Laurel had fought it.

 

“Hey, you okay there?”

 

“Yeah,” Laurel said automatically. “Just looking for the meeting that's supposed to be happening here.”

 

“Well, you've come to the right place.”

 

Laurel made a point of quickly reaching for the doorknob herself, holding it open for the woman, who took the hint and stepped inside. Laurel followed.

 

“Wow, it's been years since I've been here and yet it smells exactly the same.” Laurel shivered - less because of the cold, more because of the goosebumps erupting on her spine as she took in the familiar aroma of sweat mixed with spilt sand of punchbags split open. It wasn't that that smell was especially pleasant - more the fact that this place was tied to Laurel and the turbulence whirling in her brain otherwise known as emotions - in too damn many ways.

 

But then she took in a deep breath - she wasn't going to get sucked into old memories. That wasn't why she was here tonight.

 

“You’ve been here before?” the woman asked, and the question helped ground Laurel into reality again, thankfully, reminding her of her purpose.

 

“Yeah. My dad - he used to box here. He would bring me along with him, let me do my homework while he trained.”

 

“I see.” There was a pause of hesitation. “I haven't seen you here before. Mind you, we don't get a lot of the fancy types here. Or at all.”

 

“Come again?”

 

“It’s midnight and you're here in a suit. Are you… a businesswoman or something?”

 

“Lawyer,” Laurel said, and she understood now that for once it was her clothing and not something else that made her incongruous to her surroundings. “Well. Intern, really. But hopefully a lawyer someday.”

 

“Nice.”

 

“And I finished late at work today.” She offered no other explanation and yet the woman didn't seem to question this.

 

“Right. I'm Mia, by the way.”

 

“Dinah,” Laurel replied.

 

“Good to meet you, Dinah.”

 

Five minutes later, the room was full and the organiser, Harleen, cleared her throat. “Thank you all for coming. I see we have some new faces tonight. Would you like to start us off and introduce yourselves…”

 

“Tommy,” said the man nearest to Harleen. Then Laurel felt Mia nudge her arm slightly.

 

“Dinah,” Laurel said. “My name's Dinah. I'm an alcoholic.”

 

“Hi, Dinah,” the group murmured back.

 

“Okay, welcome, Dinah, Tommy. Do either of you have anything you want to share?”

 

Laurel took a deep breath. “Mind if I go first, Tommy?”

 

“Be my guest,” Tommy replied.

 

“Yeah. So - this isn't my first meeting. Far from it. I just - I - I haven't been to a meeting in a while. At least a year, actually. I figured… if I've been sober almost that whole time, what's the point, right?”

 

“Congratulations on your sobriety, Dinah,” Harleen said. There was a murmur of agreement from the people around her, and for a stupid, fleeting second Laurel thought she actually deserved to be congratulated.

 

“Thank you,” Laurel said sincerely. “It hasn't been easy. But I found that if I ever felt the urge to drink - it helped to go to confession. I'm Catholic… and I don't always feel or act like it, but when I went to church it felt like I could get something heavy off my chest. And, I don't know - maybe I thought that if I went to church, it meant I didn't have to go to a meeting. After all, having a priest isn't so different from having a sponsor. The only difference, really, is that my priest pretends not to know who I am when I see him at Mass that Sunday. That's part of confession. The anonymity is something of a pretence. It's less so here.

 

“Anyway… when I started on the programme, one of the first things my sponsor had me do was make amends with people I had hurt as a result of my addiction. I remember her being surprised that there was only really one person I could think of, my best friend, who’s also interning at the firm I'm at. My sponsor, she asked me - about family. Other friends. There must have been other people, not just one. But there weren’t. I mentioned it to some others at my meetings downtown and they seemed envious. Like that somehow meant I had my shit together or that I was well-adjusted.”

 

“You don't think that's true?” Harleen said.

 

“I know it's not,” Laurel said without hesitation. “If anything - I was jealous of them in a way. Because the real reason there was only one person on my amends list is because… no one else was close enough to me to get hurt by my drinking. I learned years ago to not let anyone in. To push people away even when they do care. Jo - my friend - was the only one to stick around. And -” But she broke off now, Nyssa's beautiful damn face shimmering in her mind's eye. “Anyway,” Laurel finished somewhat lamely, “thank you all for listening.”

 

“Thanks, Dinah. What about you, Tommy?”

 

From beside her Tommy cleared his throat. The whole time she had been talking, Laurel could hear him shifting in his chair, like he couldn’t get comfortable. “Tommy. Alcoholic.”

 

“Hi, Tommy.”

 

“It's been - a week since my last drink.”

 

“That first week's always the hardest,” Harleen added. “But you made it, Tommy. You should be proud of yourself.”

 

And there was something quietly amazing about the solidarity that surged through the group as Laurel heard the people around her nod vigorously, echoing the familiar sounds of assent and encouragement. She wasn’t sure what about it amazed her - just that here was a bunch of people with otherwise little in common, but who shared the same struggle and faced a hard choice that had to be remade every day, every second, sometimes.

 

“It's just hard, I guess, sometimes, when I'm at work. I work at an office. Nothing fancy, really, but there's a big drinking culture in the there. And it's not really the kind of culture or environment that has addicts in mind.”

 

“Hear, hear,” Laurel said under her breath, not thinking that Tommy heard her until he chuckled.

 

“No one at work knows. About the alcoholism, I mean. For so long I was denying that it was even a problem because to everyone else it seemed like I had it under control. And now I know it's an issue - well, I get the feeling if my boss knew, I wouldn't have a job anymore.”

 

“If that does happen, you know that’s illegal, right?” Laurel said - audibly this time, and she could sense the heads swivel towards her at that. “Sorry,” she said after a few seconds of silence. “You probably already knew that. And I didn't mean to interrupt.”

 

“Carry on, Tommy.”

 

 “I guess the hardest part about sobriety to me isn't me going cold turkey on the booze - though, trust me, that's not to say that part is easy. Far from it. It's more… the loneliness. So many of the _real_ conversations I've had with my friends, the ones that matter, have been over a beer. And now I just am making all these excuses, and my best friend, he knows something's up, but I haven't told him.”

 

“Why not?” Mia asked.

 

“I just know things will change with us. Like he'll feel the need to walk on eggshells around me and I don't think I could handle that. Not from Ollie.”

 

Another voice from across the circle now. “Give it time. You'll get there.”

 

When the meeting was over a little while later, Laurel knew Tommy was lingering. He stayed behind and helped Harleen put away the chairs, and Laurel stood in the corner of the room, arms folded, just out of Tommy's sight. To her surprise, it seemed Tommy had only stayed behind to put away the chairs - Laurel could tell that he wanted to say something to Harleen, but he didn't, except for a quiet “thank you”.

 

Perhaps ill-advisedly, Laurel chose that moment to step forward and it made Tommy jump.

 

“Jesus.”

 

“Sorry,” Laurel said quickly.

 

“No, I'm sorry - I should have watched where I was -”

 

“Please don't do that.”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Exactly what you’re worried people will do with you if they knew you came here. Don't tread on eggshells around me. Please.”

 

She knew Tommy was nodding, and he quickly said, “Okay. Understood. Were you… waiting to talk to me, or something?”

 

Laurel shook her head at first - she'd wanted to talk to the organiser, Harleen, but now she wasn't so sure. So after a second she nodded. “Yeah. Just wanted to - apologise for interrupting earlier.”

 

“That's okay. For the record - I do know it's illegal for them to fire me for being a drunk, but that doesn't mean they can't use it against me if I ever disclose it to them. Especially if it affects my performance at work.”

 

“What do you do?”

 

“I'm just the secretary.”

 

She tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t quite mask it. Thankfully, he chuckled too.

 

“Yeah, I know. Not what you’d expect.”

 

“No, it’s not that.” Laurel knew that Tommy didn’t believe her, though, and then she conceded, “Okay. Maybe part of it is that. I guess I just -”

 

“- expected me to be suited and booted like you?”

 

“The job is nowhere near as glamorous as you might think. But yeah. Something like that.”

 

“Well, hey. Who knows - maybe in another lifetime I wouldn’t be coming from such humble beginnings.”

 

Briefly they were interrupted by Harleen clearing her throat from behind them.

 

“Sorry, guys - I don’t wanna be annoying but I’ve got to lock up here. It’s getting late.”

 

“No worries - thanks for today,” Tommy said.

 

“Yeah,” Laurel added. “Thanks, Harleen. We’ll get out of your hair. 'Night.”

 

“Goodnight,” Harleen returned with a smile in her voice.

 

It was then that Tommy held out his arm. Automatically Laurel took it, almost without a second thought, and Tommy's resultant intake of breath was clearly audible as Laurel let him guide her out the door.

 

Moments like these made Laurel wonder if this kind of close contact counted as familiarity or intimacy, when to an extent it was the manufactured variety and so didn't really count. It wasn't like Laurel needed a helping hand, not with her amplified senses - but then again, maybe that was why she let people guide her from room to room.

 

Now, for instance, Laurel had no trouble noting the precise offbeat of Tommy's heart and his careful breathing when Laurel accidentally (or on purpose) inched closer to him or nudged against his side.

 

“Do you live far from here?” he asked, and again, Laurel tried to hide her laugh but couldn't quite manage it. “I don't mean like _that_ \- just, I figured I could hail you a cab?”

 

Laurel sighed. “Sure.” Tommy shuffled a little on his feet then and she couldn't help but add, “Hey, word of advice? Don't be like me. Don't close yourself off.”

 

“Easier said than done.”

 

“I never said it would be easy. But sometimes - sometimes you have to take a leap of faith and just… hope for the best. And if your friend Ollie is a decent person, he'll understand. He might even be able to help you.”

 

“How do you figure?” Tommy said, clearly unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

 

Reaching down, Laurel moved her hand so it was loosely around Tommy's wrist and then enclosed his hand with her own.

 

“Now that bit _is_ easy. Staying clean is hard. But having someone or something you love to stay sober for? That makes it a little less so.”

 

She could hear a cab approaching and quickly hailed it.

 

“Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure,” Laurel replied.

 

“Who do you stay clean for?” Tommy asked, just the car came to a stop a few yards from them.

 

Laurel couldn't help but smile. “I'll let you know if I ever figure that out.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm moving back and forth in the timeline a fair amount, but hopefully it's clear when this is set if you've watched the first episode of Daredevil. Essentially Laurel and Joanna are newly qualified as lawyers and their new client turns out to be someone Laurel knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Keele for helping me when I was stuck with this.

“So remind me how you got this case again?” Laurel asked Joanna as they were led through the police precinct to Interrogation Room 2.

 

Thankfully - for Joanna, that is - she didn't have time to answer. They had reached the room and already the cop on duty was opening the door for them - but only an inch, just enough for Jo to get a glimpse inside.

 

“I'm in the middle of an interrogation, counsellor.”

 

“I can see that.” Laurel knew now that Jo was craning her neck to take a better look at the person inside. “You wanna tell me why you think the cuffs are necessary for a man with no priors, Detective Boland?”

 

“Mr Merlyn was found red-handed at the scene of a murder,” the detective replied. “And I don't mean that metaphorically. So yeah. They're necessary.”

 

Laurel groaned inwardly - what had Jo gotten them into? Nevertheless, she was a lawyer, she reminded herself, as of twelve hours ago. She had a job to do.

 

“Did he resist arrest?” Laurel asked.

 

“Why is that relevant?” Detective Boland shot back.

 

“Just curious.”

 

“No, he did not.”

 

Laurel folded her arms. “Then can you at least allow our client the dignity of being uncuffed while you give us the room?”

 

“She just rolled her eyes, for the record, Laurel,” Jo said.

 

“Fine.”

 

There was a click as the handcuffs on their client were taken off him, and then the detective held the door open for Laurel and her partner.

 

“Thanks,” Laurel said, but Tina didn’t reply, just huffed a sigh and left the room, shutting the door behind her with a little more dour force than required.

 

“Dinah? Is that you?”

 

 _Shit_.

 

She recognised that voice. Hell, she could have recognised it when he murmured “thank you” to Boland after she took his cuffs off, but Laurel hadn't been paying attention at that point. And to do what she did, Laurel had to pay attention.

 

Now, though, while she didn't need to feign her surprise, she did need to pretend not to be too annoyed that it was him.

 

“Oh my God. Uh. Tommy, right? Hi. It's been a while.”

 

“Wait, you know this guy?” Jo demanded, and Laurel had to mask a slight smile because it almost sounded like Jo was jealous.

 

“Not exactly.”

 

“What exactly does ‘not exactly’ mean? And I thought you didn't like being called Dinah?”

 

“I never said I didn't like it. And it's just what I go by during AA meetings.”

 

“ _Oh_.”

 

Laurel could tell Jo felt bad, then, and she was about to say something to her partner, only for Tommy to finally get a word in edgeways. “Who are you?”

 

“I'm Joanna de la Vega, and this is my associate, _Dinah_ Laurel Lance.”

 

“We've met,” Laurel said unnecessarily. “And I prefer Laurel. We're your lawyers.”

 

“I can't afford a lawyer,” Tommy said.

 

Jo barely skipped a beat. “See, Mr Merlyn -”

 

“Tommy. Please.”

 

“ _Tommy_ \- that would have been a dealbreaker for me, but I have a feeling my partner’s not gonna give up that easily when she’s trying to save the world.”

 

At this Laurel couldn’t think up a witty remark in time, and Tommy asked, “How did you even find me?”

 

Laurel straightened a little and nudged Jo with her elbow. “That's an excellent question, Mr Merlyn, one that I'll let my partner answer.”

 

Jo shook her head and sighed. “Okay, fine - I may or may not have asked the desk sergeant to tip me off if anything interesting turned up.”

 

“And me being suspected of murder counts as interesting?”

 

Now Laurel resisted the urge to laugh, because only Jo would do that. “You gave Mckenna’s mother cigars again, didn’t you?”

 

“It’s a free country, and we need our first client, so unless you have any better ideas, hun -”

 

“Jo, _sweetie_ , can I have a word with you privately, please?”

 

“Sure. Give us a second, Tommy.”

 

Laurel got to her feet and went to the corner of the room with Jo at her heels. “What the hell is this?” Laurel demanded. “I thought the whole reason we left Landman and Zach was because we wanted to do something better.”

 

“And you know I love you dearly for your idealism, but we can’t live off it. Besides, what happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty’? What happened to the idea that everyone deserves representation?”

 

“But he’s a criminal.”

 

“How can you know that for sure?”

 

Laurel couldn’t say anything now, about how she could hear Tommy’s heartbeat going as fast as a jackhammer and she knew he was hiding something, or that she just had a bad feeling about all of this - not when she knew Jo wouldn’t believe a word she said. And even if she did, Jo was right. They needed a first case. One way or another.

 

“I don't,” Laurel said finally.

 

“Exactly. Give the poor guy a chance. At least hear him out.”

 

Huffing a sigh, Laurel knew already that she was going to give in. “Okay.”

 

Brightening, Jo put her hands on Laurel’s shoulders. “All right! Now, you’re gonna listen to your best friend, and you’re gonna waltz on over and tell Tommy how honoured you are to represent him.”

 

“Why can't you do it?”

 

“You have an in with him.”

 

“It was one meeting, over a year ago, and it kind of defeats the purpose of the whole anonymity thing -”

 

“And I don’t want to ask you when I know it’s a sore subject -”

 

“It’s not,” Laurel cut across her.

 

“Fine. A sensitive one, then. But you have something in common. So use it.”

 

Laurel groaned. “Why do you hate me?” But still, she straightened up, made her way over to - God help her - their client and said reluctantly, “Tommy, we would be honoured to represent you. How would you like to be our first client?”

 

“Maybe you shouldn't have led with that,” Joanna said from beside her as she pulled out her chair and sat down.

 

“Wait, so you've never done this before?” Tommy said. “I thought you said you were -”

 

“We are fully qualified for the job, I assure you,” Laurel cut across him. “We’re also smart and quick learners. Why don't you tell us what happened, Tommy?”

 

“I already told that cop, I didn't do it.”

 

Laurel was surprised. His heartbeat had slowed, enough to make her doubt herself.

 

“I believe you,” she said before she could think about it, and she knew Joanna was glaring at her now. “ _We_ believe you. Don’t we, Jo?”

 

A sigh, then, through gritted teeth, “Yeah, we do,” from Joanna.

 

“And we're gonna help you with this,” Laurel said. “I give you my word. But you'll have to start from the beginning, please.”

 

“I don't know what happened, okay? I - I was meeting Max after work last night. I'd offered to buy him a drink.”

 

“You're referring to the murder victim, Max Fuller?”

 

“God, I still can’t believe he’s -” Tommy halted, and Laurel knew that his eyes had tears in them - just another way that he surprised her.

 

“You cared for him,” Laurel said slowly.

 

“He was a nice guy,” Tommy said.

 

“How did you know him?”

 

“Work. I’m the finance administrator for Union Allied Construction. Max is - _was_ \- in the HR department.”

 

“And why did you meet him?”

 

Silence. Tommy shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.

 

Then Jo said, “We can’t help you unless you’re honest with us. You know that, right?”

 

“We were just friends going for a beer after work.”

 

“I take it that means you’ve fallen off the wagon, then?” Laurel blurted before she could stop herself.

 

She regretted it almost instantly, but by then the damage had been done as Tommy scoffed bitterly.

 

“Probably more accurate to say I was never on it to begin with. Let's just say the programme didn’t really work out for me.”

 

Silence fell - the dense, deeply uncomfortable kind that Laurel felt she could have cut in half with a knife.

 

“So what happened?” Jo cut in, to Laurel's relief. “With Max?”

 

“I don't remember,” Tommy said, his heartbeat steady. “One minute we were talking and the next - everything was spinning and I blacked out.”

 

“And it wasn't because of the booze.”

 

It hadn't been a question, but Tommy answered it anyway. “No. I'm long past the point where two beers can do anything for me.”

 

“What were you talking about?”

 

“Why does it even matter?”

 

“A man is dead, Tommy. Surely that's reason enough for everything to matter?” Laurel was guilt-tripping him now, she knew that, but she also knew that there was no way this was the whole story.

 

There was a sniffle and then Laurel was the one feeling guilty. “You don't need to tell me that.” Then he paused, before saying, “Okay. We were out for a drink because I haven't been at this place long and honestly it's hard to meet people in the city. Especially when you're always working. It gets lonely. So we talked, not a whole lot, about work, about family. He has - _had_ \- a wife. Two kids. He was saying how the little one was keeping him up at night. And then the next thing I knew, I was in my apartment, covered in blood. His blood.” Tommy was crying now - Laurel could hear it in his voice and practically taste the salt of tears in the air as he gulped and said, “I didn’t do this. Please. You’ve gotta believe me. I’m not a murderer. And I don't know why you're both here - especially you, Dinah. I mean - Laurel.”

 

“It’s okay,” Laurel reassured him. “I’m fine with either name. Listen… Jo, can you go get Tommy some coffee?”

 

“Sure,” Jo said, getting to her feet and leaving the room. Laurel waited for the door to click shut before she took a deep breath.

 

“How’d you know I needed coffee?” Tommy said.

 

“You’re restless. Hands shaking. Feet tapping. I can hear it.”

 

“You must have good ears, then.”

 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Laurel muttered under her breath. “I also think you need to clear your head a bit. Hell, sober up.”

 

“I'm not drunk. I already told you."

 

“But you are an alcoholic.” Laurel hesitated now. “Tommy, have you ever been - really wasted? I mean… to the point that you remembered nothing, absolutely nothing, because you just completely blacked out?”

 

“More than once,” Tommy said, far more readily than Laurel expected.

 

“Yeah. So have I. And I remember… waking up and feeling so awful, but also filled with horror because I didn't know what I had done during those missing twelve hours. And then - then I felt relief, because I realised I was in best friend's apartment and she had driven me home with me passed out in her backseat the moment she found me in my favourite dive bar in the city. And I realised that even though I felt like shit, I also had someone who could account for my every action even if I couldn't.” Laurel waited, but perhaps it just hadn't clicked for Tommy yet. “I had an alibi. Right now, you don't."

 

"What are you trying to say?"

 

"I'm saying that you're going to be staying in jail overnight because right now things don't look too good for you, Tommy." Her client's sharp intake of breath was audible even to a normal person's ears, so she quickly added, "And I'm saying that if there is anything you're not telling us, anything at all, now is the time to tell me."

 

At that moment Joanna walked back in and shut the door behind her with a click, bearing a cardboard cup of coffee. The chair scraped on the floor as Jo sat back down and handed the coffee to him, and Laurel knew - or, rather, she hoped - that this time their first client would be more forthcoming with his new lawyers.

 

More than that, though, Laurel hoped that she could make good on the promise she had made Tommy Merlyn, one she was now doubting she could keep.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So again, in terms of chronology this is going back and forth quite a bit, and this fic is not written linearly deliberately. This takes place a few weeks after Laurel and Nyssa have their first time together. For those who watch Daredevil, this is the equivalent of the Mattelektra scene that takes place in the boxing ring. 
> 
> Uhhh, so on that note, this is another chapter that very much earns the E rating. I would say don't read this at work, but considering I'm posting while at work, maybe i'm not the best judge of that, lol.

Laurel was in the middle of her closing speech when she heard her.

 

She tried to soldier on, keep going even though her train of thought was lost now she could smell the warmth of Nyssa's perfume from where she stood. Laurel could hear her slip inside the room, knowing Nyssa was carrying with her two large strawberry milkshakes. 

 

And really it was fine - there was a reason she was a mere law student and not a lawyer yet. But in that moment, caught off guard and tripping over words that she had gone over smoothly before, she knew then that she had lost, well before the professor presiding as mock judge for the mock trial decided the same some fifteen minutes later.

 

Afterwards, when the students were leaving the lecture theatre, Nyssa stayed behind, waiting for Laurel, who greeted her girlfriend with a kiss.

 

"Hey, you," Laurel said.

 

"Hey yourself, counsellor," Nyssa replied, a smile in her voice. "I did not think I would love this look of yours as much as I do."

 

"Thank you. Honestly it's not exactly the most comfortable. And… it doesn't seem to matter how swanky my outfit is - I still lost."

 

A gentle hand crept up to cup Laurel's cheek. "You were great up there. And I see you took my advice."

 

"Using the cane as a prop? Yeah, that was a good idea. Maybe in another life you're the attorney and I'm the -"

 

In truth Laurel wasn't entirely sure what she was going to say, but Nyssa beat her to it thankfully. "- rich yet terrible actress?"

 

"Something like that." It was impossible for Laurel not to smile now. "I would definitely be a shittier actress, though."

 

“Yes, darling, because  _ I’m  _ Angelina Jolie.” They shared a laugh, but then Nyssa asked, "Are you all right?"

 

"I didn't know you'd be here," Laurel blurted out before she could stop herself.

 

Nyssa coughed. "I didn't think that you knew I was here."

 

"I heard you come in." 

 

"I just wanted to see the legendary Laurel Lance in action. You're - different here."

 

"How so?"

 

"You're more - confrontational. You don't pull your punches." Laurel must have noticeably winced at that because Nyssa then continued, "Of the metaphorical variety, that is."

 

A forced smile now. “You trying to say you came here to tell me I don’t know how to throw a proper jab?”

 

“I didn’t -”

 

Then Laurel caught herself, realised how she sounded, and she held up her hand apologetically. "No, don’t. I’m sorry. I didn't mean - I'm not saying you being here is bad or anything. Just…"

 

"Just… what?"

 

"You make me nervous," Laurel admitted. 

 

At this Nyssa chuckled. "I don't know whether I should be annoyed or flattered."

 

Laurel considered for a moment. Given she usually didn’t let people close enough to her to have this much of an effect on her to begin with, Laurel had a feeling it should be the latter. 

 

Reaching for Nyssa’s free hand, she said, “Take the compliment.” Nyssa chuckled and then started tugging at Laurel’s hand. 

 

“You’re done for the day, right?”

 

“Yeah. But where are we going?” Then Laurel couldn’t help but laugh. “You just tapped your nose, didn’t you?”

 

“How did you know that?” Nyssa asked, but she didn’t sound disconcerted or worried or freaked out, the way people normally reacted to Laurel’s heightened senses. And she didn’t seem to expect an answer either, because she then said fondly, “Pretty  _ and _ perceptive. I knew there was a reason we found each other. But anyway - we should get going.”

 

“Are you going to tell me where?”

 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out when we get there.”

 

They got into Nyssa’s car (“Smells expensive,” Laurel said as she inhaled and smelt leather) and set off, both of them singing along to soppy soft rock songs from the eighties. It was fun, freeing, when Nyssa turned the volume up, the hood of the convertible down, and they yelled happily along to Air Supply's  _ All Out of Love _ , Nyssa terribly out of tune. 

 

As they pulled up, though, Laurel frowned, smile automatically fading as she listened carefully. “ _ Oh _ .”

 

Nyssa didn’t seem to notice, though, and she simply took the key out of the ignition and got out of the car, coming around to open the door for Laurel before she could do so herself. Laurel took Nyssa’s proffered hand and shut the car door behind her, while saying teasingly, “Always the gentlewoman.”

 

“That’s me,” Nyssa said cheerfully. “And don’t worry. I do this with the other girls too.”

 

“ _ Other _ girls?” Laurel repeated incredulously before she could stop herself, and Nyssa burst out laughing. 

 

“So I  _ do _ have an effect on you.” Laurel folded her arms, trying to look annoyed but betraying her expression when the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile despite herself. "Grab those milkshakes for me, will you?" 

 

Reaching over, Laurel did so, taking the bag out. "Where are we?" 

 

It wasn't that Laurel didn't know already, even before Nyssa pushed open the door, which for some reason was unlocked. What she was really asking was  _ why _ \- why Nyssa has brought her here, of all places. 

 

“Laurel… do you trust me?”

 

This time Laurel didn’t hesitate. “Of course I do.”

 

“Okay then. Hold on to me tight, and don't drop those milkshakes." Laurel laughed, and Nyssa picked her up easily, bridal style. "Welcome," Nyssa announced, opening the door, "to Wildcat Gym. Or, perhaps, more accurately, my darling, welcome back." 

 

"You know," Laurel murmured as Nyssa stepped carefully over the threshold, "I'm not exactly dressed for a workout." 

 

"I am sure you can improvise," Nyssa replied, her heart not wavering even for a second. She placed Laurel back on her feet, and Laurel reached into the bag and unearthed the milkshakes, handing one to Nyssa. 

 

"How did you know it'd be empty?" Laurel said after taking a sip. 

 

"I just paid the owner so we could have it for a few hours." This was said in such a throwaway manner, in between sips of her own shake, that Laurel wasn't sure whether she should ask Nyssa how much - and she decided against it after a second. "Besides… I know this place means something to you."

 

Laurel nodded. "Yeah. I come here a lot. Usually -" she gestured above her with a smile "- at the end of the day when I can have the lights off and box in peace." 

 

She expected Nyssa to question this, something, anything that she was saying. But Nyssa didn't, instead walking over to the punchbag closest to them. There was a thump, surprisingly powerful, as Nyssa's fist hit the bag, and Laurel found herself going to the other side to hold it in place. 

 

"Thanks." 

 

"And… you were right," Laurel said suddenly. "This place - it's important to me. My dad used to train here. I saw him get his ass beat for the gajillion times." 

 

"He's a fighter?" 

 

Laurel sighed. " _ Was _ . He died when I was eleven."

 

Her words were greeted at first with silence. Then: "I'm sure you hear this all the time, Laurel, but I really am sorry to hear that. You deserve better than to lose a parent that young." 

 

Somehow, though Nyssa's words weren't as hollow as perhaps she thought they would be, it was nevertheless difficult for Laurel to maintain any semblance of composure when she knew Nyssa was looking at her with pity.

 

"Thank you," Laurel said quietly, before turning around and kicking off her heels, followed by her skirt and jacket, because if she was going to be here she should at least be comfortable. Then, with slightly wobbly grace of someone getting back onto a bike, she leapt into the ring. “You coming or what?” Laurel called behind her without looking back.

 

Nyssa laughed. “Yeah. Just enjoying the view.”

 

"That makes one of us." 

 

“Not my fault you have a great ass.” 

 

Laurel laughed more freely now, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders as she lay sprawled on her back in the ring.

 

After a minute Nyssa joined Laurel, Nyssa settling cross-legged and Laurel deciding to lie back, resting her head on Nyssa's lap. She'd taken off her glasses, left them on a table somewhere below. There was something comforting, safe, about where Laurel was, Nyssa silently playing with Laurel’s hair.

 

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Nyssa said once the silence had gone on for a few comfortable moments and she had started tracing lazy circles over Laurel’s collarbone, pushing aside her shirt where it got in the way and undoing a couple buttons. "And you don't have to answer. Not if you don't want to." 

 

"Sure." 

 

"How did it happen?" 

 

"How did what happen?" Laurel said, feeling ever so slightly wary now. 

 

"Your dad. How did he die?" 

 

"He was killed. Not in the ring - but it may as well have been." Probably Laurel said it more bitterly than she really needed to - being acerbic about it now wasn't going to help anyone, after all - because she could feel something change in Nyssa when she said that. And then Laurel couldn't help but add, "Are you sorry about that too?" 

 

"No," said Nyssa without skipping a beat, "but I am angry."

 

"Why are  _ you _ angry? You didn't know him." 

 

"But I know you," Nyssa countered. 

 

Laurel nodded. "Yeah. Better than anyone else, nowadays."

 

"And I know you are… too good for the shit that the world throws at you." 

 

"Is that your idea of flattery?" This was said teasingly, though, and Nyssa chuckled. 

 

It was now that Laurel considered something, something she had been debating whether or not to say for a while, ever since she met Nyssa at that fateful New Year's party. 

 

It was hard to explain, but there was somethiing about the way Nyssa held on to her arm while they walked down the street, the way they would talk for hours on end or, conversely, the way they could be lying in silence on Laurel’s futon, no words needed other than those traced into Laurel’s skin by Nyssa's fingertips. Above all, there was something about Nyssa that made it easy, far too easy, for Laurel to trust her completely. 

 

"You… never ask me about the accident," Laurel said after a minute. 

 

"What?" 

 

Laurel pointed at her eyes, unseeing and blank, for once without their usual mask of sunglasses. 

 

"How this happened. You never - I thought that was what you were trying to ask me just now." 

 

For a second Nyssa shifted against Laurel, and then Laurel was surprised to feel the stroke of Nyssa's fingers on her jaw. 

 

"I think you have had quite enough strangers demanding to know your deepest secrets for one lifetime already." 

 

"But we're not strangers." 

 

"Not now, we're not." A pause, as Nyssa's hand stilled at Laurel’s crown, gently grazing her temple. "Do you want to tell me?" 

 

It wasn't really a question - not the kind that Laurel felt she needed to answer, anyway. Instead, she began her story, hesitantly at first, but with the growing momentum of someone who had been waiting to tell someone her secret for what felt like her whole life.

 

"I was just - with my dad. We were headed to the mall when there was this crash. It was… the loudest sound I'd ever heard. I didn't even realise what I was doing, just that I was running. This truck was carrying all these chemicals, and some of them had spilled onto the ground, and - I just wanted to help, Nyssa," Laurel said helplessly. "I only ever wanted to help."

 

"Dinah Laurel Lance," Nyssa said, with a definite edge of pride in her voice, "always trying to save the world." 

 

It was impossible, even with the pain that came with recounting her most traumatic memory, for Laurel not to smile at that. 

 

"Even if it blinded me in the process?" 

 

“Is that all it did?" Nyssa's question was casual, almost, yet there was no mistaking the curiosity in her voice. 

 

"No," Laurel said slowly. "Yes. It… it's complicated." 

 

Laurel got to her feet, and even without Nyssa saying anything Laurel knew she was slightly crestfallen, or disappointed at least. But then Laurel extended her hand to Nyssa, pulling her to her feet, and Nyssa seemed to realise this was not Laurel pushing her away.

 

"What are we doing?" 

 

"Maybe it's better if I just… show you." 

 

"Okay. Hold on a sec."

 

For some reason Nyssa now jumped out of the ring, with the practised weightlessness of a particularly stealthy cat burglar. She returned moments later. 

 

"Here - catch." 

 

Instinctively Laurel caught the projectile, which she quickly realised was - 

 

" - a bo-staff?" Laurel said doubtfully. 

 

"Just so we're evenly matched." Laurel opened her mouth, an objection already on her tongue at what was implied, and to her relief there was a sound of another weapon whipping through the air as Nyssa then added, "Bo-staff versus tonfa. Unless you want to swap?" 

 

But Laurel was already grinning, the fighter in her primal and ready to go, as she detached the staff in half and got into a fighting stance. 

 

"No, I know how to use this." 

 

"Figured as much. I reckon this will be a fair fight." 

 

"You're not going to ask me how a blind woman fights?" 

 

"Do you  _ want _ me to ask you?" 

 

"Not particularly," Laurel admitted.

 

They circled each other, both of them waiting for the other to make the first move. In some ways it reminded Laurel of their dance during their first meeting - only this time Laurel found it a lot harder to read Nyssa and anticipate her movements. 

 

In the end they both decided to strike at the same time, and Laurel was surprised that she managed to duck Nyssa's punch in time, and that somehow her footwork wasn't totally awful because she pivoted well enough to trip Nyssa up with the staff. 

 

"So is this the part where you tell me your secret?" Nyssa asked, panting and on the floor, and she accepted Laurel’s hand to help her up. 

 

"It's not what you think," Laurel was quick to say.

 

"And what do I -" 

 

"You're probably thinking," Laurel interrupted, "that this was all an act, that I'm not blind, that all those times in movies and TV when someone fakes their disability are actually plausible -" 

 

"No, that's not what I think, I promise." 

 

Her heartbeat was steady. Nyssa wasn't lying. 

 

"Really?" 

 

"I think you're different," Nyssa said slowly, reaching down to get her milkshake so she could sip more of it, "and I think that you think that means there's something wrong with you."

 

It was true, what was said - the truth always did hurt, especially when it was coming from someone Laurel could feel herself falling in love with even in those very seconds. 

 

"And you? Do you think there's something wrong with me?" 

 

"Not in the slightest," Nyssa said firmly. "Just the opposite. I think… that's part of what draws me to you."

 

Laurel was starting to get antsy now, the way she usually did when goddamn  _ feelings _ came up, because she'd never really known how to handle them. She found herself bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet. 

 

"Let's go again."

 

This time, Nyssa had the upper hand, perhaps given Laurel’s mind was beginning to go elsewhere, thinking about what Nyssa had said. It wasn't long before Nyssa claimed her victory, the sharp whip of the tonfa slicing through the air and hitting Laurel on her side. Winded, Laurel ended up in a headlock, Nyssa pinning her wrist above Laurel’s head from behind. 

 

"I win," Nyssa said with the kind of dangerous softness that served the sole purpose of seriously turning Laurel on as she felt warm breath flutter against the shell of her ear. 

 

"This round, sure, but then that makes us even, right, if I won the first one?" Laurel said breathlessly. Then without warning she jumped out of Nyssa's grasp and grabbed the bo-staff from the floor, turning on the spot just in time to trip Nyssa over again, so she fell on her back. Laurel knelt and then straddled her, revelling in the groan she elicited from Nyssa by doing so. 

 

"Nice moves," Laurel murmured. "I didn't know they taught Muay Thai in English boarding school." 

 

"They don't. My sister taught me. And you - tai kwon du?"

 

"Well spotted." Laurel should have probably gotten up by now, but she was rather enjoying the feeling of Nyssa’s body beneath her own, the way she seemed to pulsate every second, the fact that Laurel could hear the comforting throb of her heartbeat, loud and clear. 

 

"So if you can't see," Nyssa said, shifting just a few inches so she could sit up, Laurel still on her lap with a leg on either side of Nyssa, "how  _ do  _ you see?" 

 

"You know that makes no sense, right?" 

 

"You know what I mean." 

 

"My other senses are sharper. I… hear things other people can't. It's… more than I like most of the time, but it does help me read people better." 

 

"So how do you read me?" 

 

Reaching down, Laurel caught Nyssa's wrist - unnecessary, really, when she could hear the thrum of her pulse already, better than Nyssa herself could most likely. "Your adrenaline spiked when we were - sparring. And now even though you've slowed down, I can tell from your heartbeat you're still…" Laurel paused for a moment. "... excited. Like you're waiting for something." 

 

"That's because I  _ am _ waiting for something." There was something suggestive that dripped from the words that fell from Nyssa's tongue, in the way that her hand found Laurel’s bare thigh and the kiss Nyssa bestowed on Laurel several moments later. It was the teasing kind of kiss, and Laurel could taste the sweet hint of strawberry still on Nyssa's lips. It was nothing like the earth-shattering kisses to come, but nevertheless still with Laurel feeling the tingly aftershocks in her toes for hours after. "So you got that just by listening to my heart?" 

 

"Not just that." There was something enticing, damn near intoxicating, about the musk of Nyssa's vanilla perfume, mixed with the salt of sweat Laurel could taste just by breathing. She was so lost in the aroma that she barely realised Nyssa shifting underneath her, not until Laurel heard Nyssa's footsteps. "Where are you going?" 

 

"Don't sound so worried, darling. Just got to lock the door. We don't want anyone catching us…" Nyssa paused for a second, perhaps for dramatic effect, or more likely because she was trying to remember the words, before whispering (undoubtedly with a smirk on her face), “... in flagrante de-whatsit."

 

"How did you manage to get through Cheltenham with such shitty Latin, babe?" Laurel called laughingly. She stretched her arms above her head, feeling sweat trickle down her forehead as the physical exertion of the last fifteen minutes began to wear on her. After a second Laurel decided to unbutton her shirt, and she'd gotten to the last one when Nyssa returned to her side. 

 

"Ah, I'm glad you finally worked out that this was a booty call." 

 

"I'm just hot," Laurel said, and this just made Nyssa laugh.

 

"I couldn't agree more." 

 

Laurel shook her head fondly. "I thought you just brought me here to take a trip down memory lane and share my feelings and whatnot." 

 

"That too," Nyssa admitted. 

 

“Hey,” Laurel said softly, reaching out to touch the back of Nyssa’s neck and pulling her in as if to kiss her. She stopped just short of Nyssa’s lips though, and their breath mingled for a moment. “I - I’m glad I told you.”

 

“Me too.”

 

Nyssa kissed her, then, tucking some loose strands of Laurel’s hair behind her ears. Most of it was still in a ponytail high on her head, though, and just as Laurel made to loosen it Nyssa got there before her. There was a little pressure, the pull of the hair tie, and then something quietly exhilarating in how Nyssa immersed each and every one of her fingers into Laurel’s blonde curls. 

 

The little tension that was still in her shoulders left her as she relaxed into Nyssa’s embrace. Laurel sighed contentedly, and at the same time they both leaned in, lips meeting halfway for a kiss. Nyssa was gentle, slow, so it took her by surprise when Laurel found herself filled with the same damn hunger she felt whenever things got hot and heavy with Nyssa that made Laurel kiss her harder, knocking all the breath out of her as Laurel’s body covered Nyssa’s. This instinctive need for Laurel to touch every inch of Nyssa she could reach rose inside her, all liquid heat and sweat.

 

In a way she was glad when Nyssa took control, flipping them over so she was on top of Laurel. It was almost instinctive now they knew each other better, knew their movements and cues, the sharp intakes of breath and muscles taut with want - and in Nyssa’s case she knew that Laurel would melt under her warm weight. Laurel was glad to be rid of her shirt, to lie beneath Nyssa, supine and waiting, but after a minute she knew that Nyssa had stopped and was gazing at her intently.

 

"What?"

 

"What?" Nyssa echoed, and Laurel couldn't help smiling. 

 

"Why are you staring at me like that?" 

 

"I - I was just thinking." 

 

"Thinking is good." This time Laurel got a laugh out of Nyssa, but nothing more at first. 

 

Then, a long pause, “I’ve not said this enough. Even though I thought it from the moment I laid eyes on you. But I - you’re… bloody beautiful, you know that?”

 

That threw Laurel off - no one was ever soft with her, not like that, not the way Nyssa was being just now, at least not with words. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said anything like that to her before. Reaching up, Laurel’s hand found Nyssa's, so their fingers could link together, but she found she couldn’t quite form words as her heart stuttered against her chest. 

 

“Yeah?” Laurel whispered eventually, and that one word took so much goddamn effort for some reason. Then she took a breath and added with a grin, “I’m really hoping that you mean more than just my ass.”

 

She was deflecting, they both knew it, and Laurel was glad when Nyssa kissed her again, deep and slow and wanting. Quickly her lips trailed downward, a line of kisses, increasingly biting, down Laurel’s neck. Nyssa was doing that thing, that wonderful fucking thing where she was marking her territory on the terrain of Laurel’s skin, inch by inch, making Laurel groan and gasp in equal measure. By the time she reached a point just between Laurel’s breasts, Nyssa's tongue was flicking relentlessly against her skin, chasing the beads of sweat that formed at the hollow of Laurel’s neck. Despite herself, Laurel couldn't bite her needy moan back any longer. 

 

“Patience, sweetie.”

 

“Stop being such a fucking tease, Nyssa Raatko.” Somehow, mercifully, Nyssa had moved down now, to a spot just above Laurel’s navel, and Laurel started letting out some of the breath she’d been holding. “You were the one who said it was rude to keep a woman waiting.”

 

“I did say that,” Nyssa admitted, voice a little muffled from where she had pressed her face into the crease of Laurel’s thigh where it met her torso. She’d hoisted Laurel’s legs over either shoulder but was purposely avoiding her centre, touching her everywhere but there. “What I should have added, though… is that it’s  _ fun _ to keep her waiting too. Or rather - it’s fun to watch her.”

 

And Laurel couldn’t even think up a retort to that, not really, not when without warning Nyssa’s mouth was at her centre, setting Laurel’s blood alight with the kind of desire that she didn’t think was real, warming her from head to toe so she came, hard, far too quickly, falling over the precipice without warning, the  _ drip-drip _ of pleasure still no doubt hot on Nyssa’s tongue. But Nyssa wasn’t done, and neither, in fact, was Laurel, as Nyssa buried her still-damp nose into the inside of Laurel’s thigh before her tongue darted out again. She went more gently this time, perhaps more aware that Laurel was now super-sensitive, and Laurel was shakily stroking Nyssa’s hair, her cheeks, her jaw.

 

Only when her hands began to steady did Laurel widen her legs, let her heels dig into Nyssa’s back as Nyssa resumed what she was doing with her mouth, with her fingers, with her tongue, in earnest, until Laurel was sure her clit was on fire and Nyssa kept leading her to the edge of a climax before letting her stumble back a couple steps. 

 

“Nyssa...” Laurel whispered reverently, “Nyssa… please -”

 

At last, Nyssa relented, letting her hit one final high before, slowly, Laurel found herself falling back to earth. Her legs were still shaking, hips only slowing down in how they rose and fell, never stopping altogether. Vaguely she registered Nyssa kissing her way up Laurel’s neck again, then her cheek, her nose, forehead, as if Nyssa was trying to memorise every inch of Laurel’s face with her lips.

 

Laurel could hear the thump-thump of Nyssa's heart, the way her pulse was skyrocketing, was acutely aware of Nyssa's every breath. 

 

"Can you hear it?" Nyssa said, so quietly that for a moment Laurel wondered if Nyssa intended to say it aloud. 

 

"Yeah," Laurel said after a moment. "Loud and clear. But… it would still be good to - know what you want." 

 

"You," Nyssa replied without hesitating. Laurel considered for a moment, then reached down to cup the curve of Nyssa's breast.

 

"You've still got clothes on." 

 

"So get them off. And me, too." Nyssa shifted a little, so she was sitting back, leaning slightly on her hands, outstretching her legs in front of her. And damn her, she was laughing at her own pun, because that was just like Nyssa Raatko, the corniest fucking lesbian in Star City.

 

"You are awful," Laurel told her, shoving playfully at her shoulder before getting to work with Nyssa's pants, pulling them off her and then not managing to mask her tiny growl of impatience when they were stuck around one of Nyssa's ankles. Laurel felt frenzied to the point of clumsy, partly because of the two times she had climaxed already but also in part because she felt the underlying need to do the same for Nyssa.

 

Thankfully Nyssa, eager to rid herself of clothing too, didn't seem to notice Laurel’s nervousness, or she didn’t care, and she took off her shirt and bra and flung them both aside somewhere. Then Nyssa lay back, and this time she was the one waiting. 

 

Laurel could taste it in the air, too - the sweet heat of Nyssa's desire, faint but growing stronger the closer Laurel got to where Nyssa wanted her. Inhaling deeply, Laurel wondered if she would ever get enough of that heady scent, almost mesmerising her in how enticed she felt. Laurel wanted to let her tongue dart out, just to get a taste, a proper one,  tease of what was to come later, but she wanted to savour it too, the anticipation, the fact that Nyssa was already trembling even though Laurel hadn't touched her yet. She let her breath ghost the inside of Nyssa's thigh, while her fingers began a slow path up Nyssa's hip, not stopping until Laurel reached the soft underside of her breast with her thumb. Catching her nipple between two fingers, Laurel tweaked it and felt it stiffen at her touch.

 

“Now who’s being a tease?” Nyssa muttered under her breath, and that just made Laurel smile because she was sure Nyssa had forgotten Laurel could hear her. 

 

“You were right,” Laurel said. “It’s fun to watch.”

 

For a moment Laurel waited, for the quip she honestly wouldn’t have minded hearing too much about her lack of sight, but it never came. Instead, Nyssa grabbed Laurel by her shoulders and kissed her soundly on the lips.

 

“Put that pretty mouth of yours to better use,” Nyssa ordered, her voice full of the same dangerous and goddamn  _ beautiful _ softness that made Laurel’s heart flutter and skip a beat. Laurel didn’t hesitate for a second - she knew, instinctively, in her bones, that she’d do anything Nyssa asked. 

 

That didn’t mean she wouldn’t take her sweet time, though, so by the time Laurel finally ducked her head and pressed that first kiss right against Nyssa’s opening, Laurel knew her partner was already falling apart. And normally for Laurel it was deafening, overwhelming, hearing the pounding of blood and each laboured breath. Certainly that was why Laurel tended to go for one-night stands rather than steady relationships - because after that first time she didn’t usually feel like she could handle more.

 

But Nyssa was different. She tasted damn near otherworldly, the vibrations of every single sound she made felt in every nerve of Laurel’s body. Laurel flicked the tip of her tongue against Nyssa’s swollen clit, making her cry out, a litany of unintelligible Arabic spilling from her tongue as Laurel made her come, just as hard as Laurel had herself only minutes before. Laurel could feel the sweat forming on her forehead as the remnants of Nyssa’s pleasure pooled on Laurel’s tongue. 

 

Nyssa reached down, cradling Laurel’s cheek with her hand, thumb brushing away the wetness that lingered on the corner of Laurel’s mouth. Laurel caught Nyssa’s hand in her own, mouth covering Nyssa’s thumb, a gesture done more for the hunger she still felt for Nyssa than anything particularly erotic - but it had that effect too, as a soft groan escaped Nyssa’s lips almost of its own accord. Laurel wanted to press the tip of her tongue against the very inside of Nyssa's wrist, blow soft air down Nyssa's arm so Laurel could hear the tiny eruptions of gooseflesh on her skin. She wanted to press her fingers into Nyssa again and leave her gasping for air. 

 

And she did all these things, painstakingly, one at a time, before her lips returned to Nyssa's, and the arousal Laurel had been feeling for what felt like the longest time finally started to unfold, a tightly wound up bud of desire that began to blossom somewhere deep inside her, and their limbs and souls tangled so completely that it was impossible for Laurel to know where she herself ended and her love began.

 

The entire time, the only thought that mattered to Laurel was that this was the most alive she had ever felt. She knew that much. 

 

What she didn't know, had no possible way of knowing, was that glory would be cut short, snuffed out without warning, exactly two weeks later, and that Laurel would never feel that same feeling again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? I'd absolutely love to hear your thoughts in that box below. Thank you very much for reading, and I hope to get another chapter up soon (it will involve more Joanna, for what it's worth).
> 
> Happy Friday!


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